


Truth Be Told

by Rinja



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 04:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15811224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinja/pseuds/Rinja
Summary: While on a hunting trip, Arthur considers his feelings for Merlin, and rushes to his aid as usual.





	Truth Be Told

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this four years ago and for some reason feel like posting it tonight. As with most of my things, dumb and short.

Truth be told, sometimes Arthur preferred being camped out to being at home in his plush bed. Obviously back in Camelot was significantly more comfortable, and safer, and easier, but when out on the road, either on a hunting trip or a mission to protect his home, he knew that his dimwit of a servant would be sharing his tent, or be passed out just across the fire from him. And, despite all of his best efforts to the contrary, he worried about the other young man. It was comforting to have him so close, so that upon waking the first thing he could see was the dark of Merlin’s hair, or his stupid ears or, if Arthur slept in, that dopey smile. 

That meant that he never had to wonder if he was ok. He never had to wake from a nightmare and think: did Merlin really get decapitated? Was he really shot through with an arrow? He was always right there, sleeping through everything like he always did, stupid and oblivious but useful every so often. 

As Arthur would occasionally lie awake at night when out on these campaigns, he’d wonder why he even cared quite so much. Merlin was, ultimately, just a servant, and while they meshed in a surprising way, there was nothing so irreplaceable about him. Right? And yet, while he could ponder this when nothing else was on his mind, the moment there was a question between himself and the dark haired boy, he always chose Merlin. There was never any hesitation. Always, he would give himself up for Merlin. It was stupid (he was to be king after all), and confusing, and completely disorienting, but it only ever bothered him when he thought logically about it. 

Getting to see Merlin first thing in the morning (or the middle of the night) was not the point of this excursion, however – he had just wanted a hunting trip at some distance from Camelot to clear his mind. Things were particularly strained with Uther at the moment, though that was no surprise, and sometimes Arthur just needed to kill his own food and pretend like he didn’t have to care what his father thought. It was a relaxingly small party too; they were only four, despite Uther’s wishes. They’d bagged three surprisingly large deer, one a buck with beautiful, large antlers, and after a simple dinner he and Leon had gone off for a walk, leaving Hoel and Merlin to clean up, feed and water the horses, and relax. Upon returning, admittedly a little late into the evening thanks to a long discussion on life and politics and Uther driving Arthur mad, both Hoel and Merlin were fast asleep. It was almost better that way, simply because then the prince didn’t have to look his servant in the face while pretending like he hadn’t just tried to vaguely explain his confusing feelings to Leon on their walk. He could just lie down and go to sleep.

But he couldn’t sleep. Arthur sighed heavily, staring up into the night sky, hands behind his head. The fire had gone out ages ago, its warmth not needed in the spring, leaving his eyes pleasantly adjusted to the darkness so that he could better make out the stars above. He lifted a hand, tracing a constellation or two in the sky that he must’ve learned as a child, trying to keep those nagging questions pertaining to his strange willingness to die for Merlin from his mind. It worked, almost, his mind lazily drifting to the star-flecked swan flying through the heavens before a sneeze jarred him out of his half-doze. 

It was Merlin, and the prince felt stupid for recognizing the sound as he sat up, brushing some of the dirt off his arms as he looked towards his servant. 

“Merlin,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice low; while Hoel slept like a log, Leon was almost always alert, and he’d prefer him rested if the sneeze hadn’t already woken him. There was a soft grunt (Merlin, again), and a mumbled response that was far from coherent, but much longer than just a questioning ‘what?’ 

Arthur let out another sigh, about to lie down when he heard another sneeze. And then a groan. And then clearly uncomfortable shifting. Rubbing his face, Arthur crawled over to Merlin’s side, a mix of concerned and annoyed. Merlin really didn’t have time to be getting sick. 

“Merlin,” he said again, voice quiet and curt, the downturn of his mouth becoming a little more serious as he noticed that the other young man didn’t appear to exactly be completely responsive. He reached out, his hand coming away slick from the sweat beaded on Merlin’s brow. Something was wrong. And there it was: the panic, the deep-seated fear of loss that was so strangely tied to his servant. But there was no time for ponderings or questions of where these feelings come from, because something was wrong with Merlin. 

Arthur tried to shake him awake, doing his best to not let the worry seep into his actions without much luck. His shaking was a little rougher than it should have been, the prince desperate for a sign that Merlin hadn’t become so feverish that he couldn’t be roused from his current state. The black haired boy groaned, clenching his eyes tightly together before finally opening them, giving Arthur a confused look that didn’t hide any of his discomfort. 

“Wha…?” That was all Arthur needed. Pushing up into a crouch, the prince quickly moved to Leon’s side, gently touching the knight’s shoulder. He awoke easily, disoriented for only a moment before he focused on Arthur.

“There’s something wrong with Merlin – sick, or who knows. I’m taking him back to Camelot.”

“Sire-“ 

“There’s no reason for you or Hoel to rush back, so follow at your own pace in the morning.” Their kills were too large to move quickly with and, as far as he was concerned, all that mattered was getting Merlin back to Camelot as quickly as possible. That didn’t necessarily need to include the two knights with them. 

“The way back is relatively safe, but even so, it seems reckless to just-“

Again, Arthur cut him off, this time with a raised hand. “We’ll move quickly, there’s no reason to be concerned. I’ll tell my father I slipped off when you were sleeping if he finds out, and everything will be fine.”

He didn’t wait for a response, his earlier fear making way for focus and determination. He could fix this. Arthur went to Merlin, gathering him up in the arms despite the quiet protests. The other young man’s body felt hot against his, but he didn’t have time to fuss. Leon, at least, hadn’t argued further, and was even preparing his horse.

It seemed like ages before he was up on his horse with Merlin in front of him, facing him, slumped against his chest with his face to his shoulder. Arthur gathered the reigns in his hands around his servant, ensuring he had a firm grip on him before turning to the knight at their side.

“Travel safely, my lord. Especially at this time of night,” Leon said, tone even but clearly not completely approving of Arthur’s actions. It wasn’t that he was risking himself for a servant, but simply that he was probably being a little rash. Arthur didn’t care. He gave Leon a short nod before starting off towards Camelot as quickly as was safe given the darkness and terrain. 

Merlin’s breath was warm on his neck as they rode; Arthur would have had to fight to stay awake if it weren’t for the jostling of their speedy trail back towards Camelot. As his horse took a turn a little sharply, Arthur nearly cursed as he tried to keep Merlin steady, the young man’s head lolling a bit. It tilted back, so their faces were nearly touching. Merlin tried to say something sleepily, and that’s when Arthur smelled it on his breath. Alcohol. 

He reigned his horse abruptly, Merlin letting out an indignant squawk as Arthur held him tightly to keep him from flying off. 

“Mer-lin,” Arthur very nearly hissed, angry with Merlin, with Hoel and, more than anyone, himself. The signs had probably been there – a hint of alcohol, Hoel sleeping through much more than he should have, the few words Merlin had murmured slurred. But no, the prince had immediately assumed the worst, and had gallivanted off into the night because his servant was…drunk. 

“…are we in the middle of the woods?” the black haired boy managed, earning him a cuff on the back of the head.

“We’ve been in the middle of the woods.”

“Oww…I mean…more in the middle’a’th woods.”

Arthur’s fingers tightened around the reigns as he resisted the urge to hit Merlin again. He let out an annoyed grunt.

“I thought there was something wrong with you; apparently I was right, seeing as you’re a stupid drunk.”

It took a few moments of processing but, surprisingly, Merlin leaned back to grin at Arthur. His expression was only a little sloppier than usual and, if possible, even more open. 

“You thought I was sick’r something. So…so you were taking me back t’ Camelot.” 

The prince clenched his jaw, not liking the clear enjoyment in Merlin’s expression and tone. This was not something to be pleased about – his servant should be embarrassed, apologizing, hoping to keep his job. Instead he just grinned, his face close, his breath sweet from whatever the hell Hoel had brought along on their hunting trip. 

“Git,” Arthur finally said, trying to get Merlin off of his horse while resisting the urge to just shove him to the ground and hug him close in equal measures. The black-haired boy giggled, using handholds liberally on Arthur as he fumbled off the horse. He was still warm, his cheeks flushed, but the jolt from the horse seemed to have woken him enough that he wasn’t the pathetic pile of person that had frightened Arthur so.

“I should just leave you here. Teach you a lesson.” The prince said this without much conviction, and without making really any show to leave. Within moments he was swinging off his horse, mostly because, even in the dim moonlight, he could see the face Merlin was giving him. It was somewhere between a kicked dog and a child begging for forgiveness, which meant that it was easiest to just cave in to avoid having to look at it any further. 

Arthur glanced about before pointing to a patch of grass that seemed the least rocky, still sounding rather put out about the whole situation as he spoke again. “Sleep. Now. I’m exhausted.” And it was true, now that the adrenaline was leaving his body. Merlin did as he was told without argument, all smiles again. Arthur sighed heavily, the action dramatic, earning him a laugh from Merlin. 

“You were really worried, hmm?” his servant asked cheekily as he practically dropped himself to the ground, stretching out his legs while Arthur tethered the horse. 

“I was not.” Arthur dropped himself next to Merlin, noting with annoyance that his view of the stars here was more obstructed than their original campsite.

“Y’were too, your royal pratness. I c’n always tell when you’re worried.” The gentle slur in Merlin’s voice remained as he stretched his long arms above his head. Now that Arthur knew drink was to blame it was so glaringly obvious, making him even more agitated. He grumbled, fidgeted, rolled from his back to his side to his back before settling once more on his side, back to the black haired young man. He was sure Leon would laugh at him tomorrow. 

“Shut up and go to sleep, Merlin.”

With something of a giggle Merlin seemed to listen for the first time that evening and went quiet, shifting his warm body every so often. When Arthur was about asleep, however, he was interrupted once more by his servant. 

“Hey, Arthur?”

“What Merlin?” 

“Thanks. F’r trying to take me back to Camelot.”

Arthur turned to look over his shoulder at Merlin, some of his irritation disappearing at the earnest look on the other boy’s face. He was still a little flushed, his breath still smelled sweet, his eyes were still a little unfocused… The prince studied his face, noting these things, along with the regular features, like the sharpness of his cheekbones and the curve of his lower lip, as he tried to think of how to respond. 

“It’s fine,” he said at length, still watching the other young man. “Just… let’s not do that again.” 

Merlin nodded, almost looking distracted for a moment before shifting his body closer to Arthur’s to plant a kiss on the blonde’s lips. Arthur was motionless, confused and shocked, as Merlin pulled away. The only thought running through his head then was how chapped the other young man’s lips felt.

“Night.” 

As Merlin rolled onto his back Arthur did the same, staring blankly up at the few stars he could see. Maybe he’d had enough thinking for the evening.


End file.
